


The Vow (Or Draco Malfoy's Bum)

by Weasy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, M/M, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 13:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11082156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weasy/pseuds/Weasy
Summary: It's Ron's stag night and his plans for Draco have got Harry in a spot of bother...





	The Vow (Or Draco Malfoy's Bum)

**Author's Note:**

> Written years before Cursed Child but never posted. Slight elements of EWE.  
> Edited by the very lovely Omi, who helped reboot my confidence.

“I’m not good with vows.” Ice clinked as Draco rocked the glass tumbler of Firewhisky in his hand and watched the liquid swirl inside.

Harry said nothing. Instead he leaned back into the comfortable dark velvet of the chairs in the back room of Tom’s bar, hoping to see around Ron’s head and get a better view of the door.

“What?” Ron spluttered. “Mate, you can hardly say that refusing to kill Dumbledore means that you’re bad at vows!”

Draco shrugged and took a hearty swig of his drink.

“It’s not that kind of vow anyway,” Harry put in quickly. “Ron’s getting married, not taking an Unbreakable Vow.”

Ron shook his head “Harry – it’s Hermione – do you really think she’s going to let me break vows?” He smiled giddily. “I don’t want to anyway.”

Narrowing his eyes Ron turned back to Draco. “And you – I’m not having sulking on my stag night. We’re making a vow right here and now that I will dare you to do something fun at some point tonight and you will do it – agreed?” He held out his hand to shake.

Draco’s mouth opened to object and was cut off by the door slamming open and two men barreling in. The privacy charms Tom cast on the back room were broken momentarily and flickering fire light and chattering sounds of the main pub flooded the little room.

“Ron!” Dean cried. “Tonight’s the night!”

“Not the wedding tomorrow then?” Draco asked, eyebrow quirking as he pulled back his chair and made space for Seamus to drop down into the empty wooden stool beside him.

“Course not.” Seamus mumbled.

“Weddings are all about the girls – the stag, that’s the groom’s day,” Dean finished confidently.

“I’ve got the shirts!” Seamus cut in as he threw a cardboard box down on the table. “And it weren’t an easy task getting them I tell you now.” He slumped down into a chair of his own and forced open the box before handing out the delightfully pink and glittery contents. “Oh, I dropped your brothers off at the shop – they’re meeting us later with the others.”

“So, me Mam’s come over to visit me at the flat and when I said I was off out running an errand in Diagon Alley she insisted on coming with us. There I was stood at the counter in Pollyanna’s Printing Palace and me Mam’s five feet away getting wound up over the example poster’s on the wall when the witch taking my order realises I want the shirts for a stag night. ‘Oh would you be interested in a special order?’ she says and whacks this massive catalogue down on the counter ‘this one’s very popular’ she says, and it’s a stonking great picture of a witch in dress robes, charmed to tickle her the right way and, bang she’s flashing her tits and arse – all this with me Mam standing just behind me! Was all I could do to keep hopping around in front of the pictures covering them with me cloak every time me Mam looked over.”

While the table roared with laughter Ron unpacked his glittery t-shirt to study the front and then dropped it back down on the table, mouth settled in a disappointed frown.

“You didn’t really expect me to order them, Ron?”

“Well...”

“He couldn’t anyway,” Dean said, “we said we might go out into the Muggle world.”

Ron looked pleased again. “Oh, alright then.” He rubbed his hands together and smiled optimistically at Harry “what have you got in store for me then, Mr Best Man?”

The door creaked open and Harry waved Tom in, his tray bulging with drinks. “First Ron, we drink.”

 

 

Four hours later and a cohort of Weasley brothers, a dozen old classmates and Ron’s weird Uncle Bilius, propped up by Arthur as he mumbled drunkenly about Beadle the bard, all stumbled back through the Oxford Street entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Confetti and bewitched colour changing silly string trailed behind them along with the last few bangs of WWW fireworks they’d let off from a second storey window.

Draco had found his way to Harry’s side, grabbing a fresh bottle of Firewhisky off the bar and slapping down some galleon’s for the barmaid, he spun around and waved it in Ron’s face. “And now... we drink more!”

A wall of cheers flew back at them as the men surged towards the bar for the next round, slapping Harry’s back and whispering thanks for the great night in his ear as they passed.

Ron stumbled toward them. “Ah no, Draco, I believe you made a vow, and your time,” his voice dropped melodramatically, “has come.” 

“Oh no, Weasel. No vow.“ Draco swayed lightly on his feet as he shoved his finger into Ron’s pink and sparkly shirt right in the middle of the ‘Wizards on Tour’ logo. “I distinctly remember not agreeing to anything.”

“Of course you did.” Ron shoved him back. “Definitely, just before Seamus, Dean and Goyle arrived – it’s MY night, I’m right about everything, right?” He looked at Harry for confirmation then ploughed ahead regardless, clapping his arm around Draco’s shoulders and moving him slightly away from the rest of the group. “Right, Draco – how do you feel about public nudity?”

Draco’s jaw dropped open.

“’Cos I’ve been hearing George going on about stripping me off and leaving me chained to a Thestral all night, I need a distraction so he’ll forget about it.” 

“But—” Draco mouthed

“It’s a brother thing,” Ron said dismissively. “But since you vowed to do whatever I said tonight you can be my distraction, eh?”

“No, I—“

“Yup, stark bollock naked, two laps round the pub ought to do it nicely.”

“No way, Weasel, your whole family fortune wouldn’t be enough to make me do that,” Draco said firmly, shoving Ron aside and looking for an escape route. “Your whole family fortune isn’t enough to make anyone do anything.” He sneered.

Ron’s face flushed and Harry almost automatically found himself moving into Draco’s path and between the bickering pair. A single ‘you’re being a dick’ look was all it took for Draco to turn back to Ron and sigh heavily. It was extremely handy, on occasion, that Draco owed Harry so much.

“Fine.”

Ron cheered instantly and dug in his pocket for something squashed and black before shoving it in Draco’s hand. “Here you go, I’m not interested in seeing your wand and two Sickles.”

“Just my bum then?” Draco groaned and headed for the bathroom muttering quietly to himself.

Harry made small talk with Neville, who’d arrived late after a long meeting at the ministry. Neville was talking about some funny piece of legislation they were trying to change, to do with cats and wardrobes and adequate pouncing room; but Harry couldn’t seem to take it in, instead all Harry could think of in his swimming head was how he had clearly drunk far too much, was empathising too much with Draco, who was just his colleague at work after all. Though Ron was being a bit of an unreasonable bastard really. In fact, they all knew perfectly well that Ron’s brothers would still find some way to humiliate him before the night was out, and was suspicious that it involved the shockingly bad poetry Ron had felt the need to pen in the drugged up euphoric love he briefly felt for Romilda Vane.

“Bit funny, weddings, aren’t they?”

“What, sorry Neville?” He gestured at the boisterous, mostly ginger-haired crowd surrounding them. “Didn’t catch that.”

“Weddings,” Neville said louder. “They’re a bit strange when you’re single.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“I was surprised you weren’t taking Ginny, I know she’s a bridesmaid and you’re best man, so you’ll be busy anyway, but, you know what I mean.”

“Erm. Yes.” Harry’s collar suddenly felt very tight and he pulled at in anxiously. “Erm. Well, to be honest. It wasn’t really going anywhere I don’t think. Me and Ginny.”

Neville perked up slightly. “Oh really? Do you think she’d go for it if I asked her out then?”

George appeared at their elbows, Percy hot on his heels and whispering furiously. “You can but ask, Neville, just bear in mind, Weasleys take no prisoners.”

“About that—“ Harry tried to interrupt.

“What’s all this Harry?” George pointed at his flagon and raised his eyebrows. “Butterbeer? We’re not kids anymore you know.”

“Trying to keep a clear head.” He muttered as his mind wandered back to Draco stood in a bathroom with nothing but – what was that, anyway? – something black to cover his bits.

“Excellent – you’ll be ready to record for posterity our delightful brother’s first ever poetry reading.”

“Now?”

Charlie had appeared from nowhere too and waved at Harry briefly as he pulled George over to the rest of the Weasleys.

“I didn’t know Ron wrote poetry.” Neville stood on his tip-toes to peer over the crowd. “Is it any good?”

“Oh, yes, brilliant.” Harry smiled: if it was now then ritual humiliation was all set for the night and there was no need for Draco-based mortification. This thought cheered him immensely, and Harry chose not to analyse the warm slightly relieved feeling too closely. “Back in a minute, Neville.”

There was a queue around the bathroom where several disgruntled looking wizards were gathered muttering to each other darkly and, one hoped, trying very hard not to think of running taps. Quickly, Harry smoothed down his hair over his hair as best he could and whipped out his wand. “Toilets broken apparently,” he said loudly as he pushed his way to the front. “I’ve been sent to sort it, Tom said to say there’s another loo upstairs.”

Still grumbling the crowd moved away, jostling to be first up the stairs and first to the other toilet, leaving Harry alone in front of the dark oak-panelled door.

Standing as close as he could he rapped his knuckles against the wood. A heavy sigh answered back.

Back at the bar Dean had thought to do a Sonorus Charm and his voice suddenly boomed through the inter-connected rooms, echoing off every wooden and glass surface.

“EYES ARE AS BROWN AS A FRESH PICKLED WORM!” 

“Ron you ripped off your baby sister’s terrible poetry?!”

Harry knocked again, louder. “Draco, it’s Harry.”

“HONESTLY RON YOU COULDN’T EVEN THINK OF YOUR OWN CRAP RHYMES?! I HOPE YOU TRIED A BIT HARDER FOR YOUR FUTURE WIFE.”

“Give me a bloody minute,” Draco grumbled. Harry could hear cloth being bundled together and Draco shuffling around, probably half-naked already.

Harry’s palms seemed strangely sweaty in response. 

“You– uh, No Draco, uhm.”

 _Get the fucking sentence out you fool!_ Deeply aware that if he didn’t tell Draco to put his clothes back on he would be walking into the corridor, naked, in mere moments.

The word naked seemed to be featuring in his head a lot.

“YOUR ROBES ARE SO PRETTY, AND THOUGH YOU’RE NOT VERY WITTY, I’M DYING TO SEE YOUR TI-“ 

“RON!” 

“Draco, you don’t need to—“

The door swung open.

There was bare-chestedness.

And lots of exclamation marks.

Maybe they were just in Harry’s head.

“Oi. Get out the way. Might as well get it bloody over with.” Draco’s hand drifted down and Harry’s eyes followed it to… some kind of sock monkey? Black with fluffy ears and button eyes. It was suspiciously long. 

“Where the fuck did Ron get that from?” 

Draco’s chest bobbed and flexed as he shrugged, the muscles on his stomach tautening under the smattering of hair as they rose up and down. “Merlin’s arse? As long as it’s not pre-loved and made by Hermione I don’t want to know.”

“Er.”

Draco tapped his foot impatiently and the muscles on his thigh twitched in motion. Harry was painfully aware that it was far too long since he’d looked at Draco’s face but he couldn’t seem to think straight enough to do anything other than stare at his work colleague’s supremely attractive body. Alcohol seemed to have slowed all polite reflexes to nothing, until embarrassment suddenly flushed through his system. “Er. I’m gay.”

“I guessed that, Potter.”

“Oh.”

Harry was now staring at the floor. Draco’s feet were rather elegant too. Slim and long with suspiciously manicured looking toes. He’d noticed them before when they were training at work. Was staring at the floor better or worse than staring at Draco’s chest?

Draco eyes were locked on him. Harry could feel it, and it was a strange, uncomfortable but hopeful feeling that tickled his toes and weighed heavy in his gut all at the same time. He knew he must be blushing.

“I am too.”

And then the toes disappeared from view. Swiftly off into the main area where “MERLINS BEARD DRACO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” roared around the room in response. Someone wolf whistled, while the others cheered and called out at Draco and the magnificent arse Harry had just caught a glimpse of before it disappeared from view.

In front of Harry a mirror reflected his shocked, open mouthed expression. All pale forehead and pink cheeks. “Draco’s gay,” he muttered, running one hand absent-mindedly through the scruffy hair, falling back into his age old habit of trying to neaten it. 

“That’s nice dear,” The mirror replied.

“Yes.” A small smile crept onto Harry’s face. “Yes it is.”


End file.
